


Birthday Interruptus

by cmonlauraweremarriednow



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, Family, Fluff, Mild Sexual Content, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-03-06 05:12:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13404189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmonlauraweremarriednow/pseuds/cmonlauraweremarriednow
Summary: Scully and Mulder's plans for birthday sex go awry.





	Birthday Interruptus

**Author's Note:**

> AU set during IWTB era  
> Originally written for a trope fic writing contest  
> Slightly silly, slightly NSFW, definitely tropey

They didn’t have the best track record when it came to birthday sex. Worse than the rate of solved X-files, honestly.

There was the time, early in their relationship, when Mulder had Scully bent over his desk in their dimly-lit basement office, skirt hiked up to her waist and his pants pooling around his ankles. He had her shirt open and his hands under the cups of her lacy bra. His warm deft fingers rolled perky nipples into hard nubs, hips grinding into her backside. Mulder tugged outward until the nipple slipped from his grip and moved his hand downward, positioning his head at the entrance of her silky heat and dragging it through the folds. The moans that tumbled through Scully’s lips filled his ears and consumed the space between them. Had they not been so distracted, they might have noticed the sounds coming down the hallway growing louder.

He was a single thrust away from his birthday present, when the clattering they had failed to notice arrived right outside their door. The tell-tale fumbling of janitor keys led to the panicked fumbling for discarded clothing. Shirts retucked, skirt straightened, pants pulled up, hair smoothed, and arms hastily shoved into a black suit jacket. The portly middle-aged man who burst through the door took no notice of the scene he’d walked in on, belting along with closed eyes and an air guitar to the chorus of “Don’t Stop Believin’” that poured through the headphones of his Walkman. He snatched up the trash bin next to the door, tossed its contents into his rolling dumpster, replaced the bag, and headed on his merry way none the wiser.

Scully’s startled expression had morphed into one of amused disbelief, accompanied by a shake of her head and hand thrown over her eyes. Was this really her life? She was a doctor for god’s sake. Dana Scully, MD, caught having bureaucratically inappropriate relations with her completely platonic partner, over a desk slathered in casefiles involving alien spacecraft and government conspiracies. She raised her head and shot him a look of cocked eyebrow.

“Mulder, that’s my blazer.”

—

Then there was the time on an undercover case in the middle of Midwest nowhere, at a run-down motel that belonged on an episode of 48 Hours Mystery in which a victim is snatched from an outdoor corridor, chopped up, stuffed in a suitcase and rolled away. The half-broken neon sign declaring “VACNY” sent flickering red-tinged shadows across the musty office with a dripping ceiling and damp carpeting. Mulder earned himself a stomped-on foot when he tried to check them in as newlyweds Mr. and Mrs. Spouquet.

“You are married, aren’t you?” the old lady who owned the motel asked, eying the gold cross on Scully’s neck. There was only one room with one bed available and she couldn’t possibly rent it to an unmarried couple because that would be living in sin and the Lord is always watching.

Mulder slung an arm around Scully’s shoulders and tried to assure her that they were indeed married. He’d almost succeeded until she spied Scully’s ringless left hand, narrowed her eagle eyes and warned them that the one vacant room shared a wall with hers and while the Lord was always watching, she was always listening.

Mr. Spouquet slept in the car that night.

—

But this time, this time is going to be different. Scully had already awoken this morning to his lips on her neck, his hand between her legs (through the front opening of his pilfered boxer shorts he always complained about her stealing, but secretly loved because of their “easy access”), and a promise to make up for all those other times.

One romantic candlelit dinner and a countless number of whispered carnal promises later, Mulder pulls the car into Maggie Scully’s empty driveway and brings their twined hands to his lips, definitely, absolutely not gazing at Scully.

“Happy birthday”

Scully returns his gaze of not gazing and smiles at him. God, she loves him. In an endless, ineffable, all-consuming way that often renders her speechless at its magnitude. After spending years chasing after him chasing after aliens to the literal end of the earth and back, they finally had something resembling a normal life. If a normal life included a bathroom with a fluffy Bigfoot toilet seat cover; she had lost the argument with Mulder and William on that decorative detail.

Mulder steps out and jogs around the front of the car to open the passenger door, extending his hand to her. With her three inch heels, she almost comes up to his nose. Sliding his jacket around her thin shoulders, he hooks a finger under her chin and tips her face to his.

“Happy birthday,” he presses into her lips, tongue swiping across the bottom one.

Scully twines her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper for just a moment before dragging his head back to look him in the eye.

“You can’t behave like this at the family party tomorrow, you know. You and Bill coming to blows is a birthday gift I can do without.”

“I promise to be on my very best behavior,” Mulder intones solemnly, holding up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

This quip earns him his favorite patented Dana Scully You’re-an-Idiot-but-You’re-My-IdiotTM eye roll. “Weren’t you kicked out of your Boy Scout troop for convincing all the other boys there was a Bigfoot in the woods on a camping trip?”

“There WAS a Bigfoot in those woods! I saw the tracks, Scully!”

Scully placates him with a pat on cheek. “I’m sure there was, Spooky, I’m sure there was.”

Mulder growls and sweeps his arm under her knees, a surprised shriek of a laugh bubbling from her chest as she throws her arms around his neck and lets him carry her up the walk to the front door. He deposits her gently on the stoop and reaches down with one hand to trail the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, his own lips following close behind. She meets his lustful eyes with a forcibly tipped chin once again, squirming under the heat of his gaze.

“Happy birthday”

Sensing her hesitation, Mulder closes the space between them and kisses her again, deeper this time, his tongue demanding entrance into that smart little mouth of hers. “Your mom took William to the movies and they won’t be back for at least another hour…we’re all alone and we have the whole house to ourselves…”

Scully sighs, knowing she is powerless to resist him when he stands that close to her. Not that she minds. Standing close to him is almost always worth her while.

“Come on,” Mulder wheedles as his lips brush her ear. “Get me out of this suit and into my birthday one…”

His teeth clamp down on her earlobe and his hips pin her to the front door. He slides his hot mouth down the slope of her jaw, lightly trailing his lips over hers, her once firm resolve now a dissolving alien bounty hunter puddle.

“Let’s just get inside before we scandalize the neighbors.” Scully tips her head to the flapping living room curtain in the house next door. I think we’ve given Mrs. Morganson next door enough of a show for one night.”

Fumbling for her keys like the janitor of yore, she can feel Mulder hardening impatiently against her back, a fact emphasized by his whine in her ear.

“This would be much easier without you breathing down my neck,” she gripes, finally having located the proper key and attempting to jam it into the lock. 

This snark earns her a firm bite on the aforementioned body part. As soon as the knob is turned, Mulder practically shoves her through the door before immediately pressing her up against the other side, the slam of the door echoing in the darkness. His jacket falls to the ground as his lips capture hers again, devoid of any of the lingering sweetness of their predecessors. He wraps one large hand around both her tiny wrists and pins them above her head; his other hand tangles in the flame of her auburn tresses. He nestles his hips into hers, rutting against her leg.

Mulder drags his lips from hers with a protesting whimper to whisper, “See all the good things that can happen when we’re all alone?”

“Think again, asshole.” The angry voice rises from the dark, followed by the sound of an elbow to the stomach and accompanying umph.

Mulder whirls around and instinctively draws his weapon, protectively shielding Scully with his body as she fumbles for the light switch on the wall. They squint as the bright light floods the room. Eight faces stare back at them, wearing expressions ranging from disgust to mortification to bemused pride: a scowling Bill Jr., with his arm wrapped around his middle where his wife had hit him; a wide-eyed Maggie; a red-faced Skinner, his hands clamped around seven-year-old William’s eyes and ears; and three smirking Gunmen.

“Surprise…” Maggie says weakly, gesturing to the sea of floating red balloons, twisted streamers, and a hand-painted “Happy Birthday” banner proudly covered in William’s handprints.

“You can put the gun away, Mulder,” sighs an exasperated Skinner, with a nod towards Mulder’s crotch. “Both of them.”

Mulder’s face flames and Scully quickly bends down to retrieve his fallen jacket, thrusting it in front of his hips.

“You always have to ruin everything for her, don’t you?” Bill snaps. Tara’s sharp elbow jabs him again, accompanied by a ferocious look that told him he wouldn’t be getting any tonight either.

“Hush Bill,” Maggie fixes that maternal gaze upon him, the one that stirs the fear God in the heart of her children, no matter their age. “Dana, dear, I’m so glad to see that you and your…Fox enjoyed your birthday dinner. I do hope you have room left for some cake.”

At this moment, Mulder doesn’t think he’d really mind being devoured by a Chernobyl sewer worm. Where’s the Flukeman when you need him? Scully’s equally crimson face is buried in his back. She gives another whimper, this time of barely audible mortified despair. Is this really her life? Dana Scully, MD, respected doctor and devoted mother, caught once again in a compromising position with her no longer platonic partner, grinding up against her mother’s front door in front of her family and colleagues. After everything they’ve seen together - liver eating mutants, killer bees, a demon worshipping PTA, homicidal exsanguinating child clones - this is as bad as it possibly gets.

“Uncle Skinner?” a little voice pipes up. “Can you let go of my head now?”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me the happiest clam in all the sea  
> You can also follow me on Tumblr [@alienbuttmuffin!](http://alienbuttmuffin.tumblr.com)


End file.
